


If I Can Rise Again

by beautifulterriblequeen



Category: The Dragon Prince (Cartoon)
Genre: All the Bad Feelings, Angst, Angst and Feels, Dancing, Guilt, Heavy Angst, Loss, M/M, Runaan is so sad guys, Sad, Wedding dance, he's so lost without Ethari, self doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-30
Updated: 2019-12-30
Packaged: 2021-02-27 10:55:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,112
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22025920
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/beautifulterriblequeen/pseuds/beautifulterriblequeen
Summary: Runaan has all the time in the world in the coin. All he wishes to do is to dance with his husband as they did at their wedding. But the past won't leave him be. Without release, Runaan is trapped in a dance of his own making.
Relationships: Ethari/Runaan (The Dragon Prince)
Comments: 22
Kudos: 87





	If I Can Rise Again

**Author's Note:**

> The link is to a Moonshadow-esque song on YouTube. @thechocochick on Tumblr said it was Moonshadowy, and then this fic happened. Let it play as you read.

[Listen](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M0GRKW-HCAk)

Runaan closed his eyes. Stood poised, still. Extended his hand. Breathed out, trembling, and waited. Ethari would reach back. Ethari always reached back to him for this dance. Their wedding dance.

A warm hand pressed its palm to his, and the dance began. Runaan stepped out to the side, and Ethari mirrored him. They drew together, heads turned away, chests touching, arched out, arms overhead, hands clasped. A swirl of motion, the brush of constant contact, of warm fingers on his wrist.

Delicate footwork carried Runaan through the first circuit and back to where he began. Ethari spun beside him, orbiting with him, turning, a whirl of light and dark. His grace was flawless, and Runaan’s heart grew light just knowing that Ethari was near. They’d danced this dance at their wedding, and again so many days and nights since. It was theirs, every step, every gesture, every flourish. They knew this dance inside and out, as they knew each other, body and soul. Whenever Runaan moved, Ethari followed. And wherever Ethari led, Runaan danced after him.

But somehow, this time, their mirroring didn’t line up perfectly. One of them moved first, and the other followed. As if they stood in two different places, in two different times, remembering the dance at a different pace. Was his memory flawed? Or did the fault lie with Runaan himself?

The first day they’d danced this dance had been the happiest of his life. Ethari’s feet had barely touched the floor, and Runaan’s heart had overflowed time and again. Their first dance as a wedded couple had been, in a word, perfection. Each so focused on the other, on following, matching, pairing. On being two as one. Runaan had never felt as _known_ as he had that day, and every day that followed. Ethari had seen into his soul, and Runaan had seen into Ethari’s, and then they had _danced_ that love, giving to each other everything they were. Runaan wanted nothing more than to capture that feeling again. Nothing in all the world. Why couldn’t he find Ethari as he once had?

Runaan focused more intently on Ethari as he stepped and turned, feeling Ethari’s hands on his shoulders, at his waist, brushing his forearms. Yet still, the dance wasn’t perfect. Its flaws grew, flickered, shadowed the light around him.

The more he tried to draw Ethari’s gaze, the faster his husband danced, as if he danced alone. The music picked up, plaintive, swirling, drawing Runaan after its melody, chasing Ethari, chasing that perfect balance he’d once had.

“Ethari…” he gasped.

But Ethari wouldn’t look at him. Runaan threw everything he had into capturing their perfect pairing, bending with Ethari, touching him warmly, holding him close. Yet Ethari always looked away. Those sunset eyes refused to gift Runaan with Ethari’s attention. The pain of being so close, and yet so far, stabbed deep into Runaan’s heart, and a horrible chill began to spread through his chest.

“Ethari, please…” Runaan breathed.

Ethari turned and swayed, and Runaan mirrored him once again. When they spun toward each other again, Ethari’s cheeks ran with tears.

Runaan’s heart ached with such a sharp pang that he nearly lost his place in the dance. Ethari drew him into his arms and turned softly with him. For a moment it felt as if Ethari clung to him, but no, Runaan was the one clinging. He held tight, desperate for reassurance, but even as they turned, he felt Ethari slipping away from him.

Runaan added a step that didn’t belong in the dance, chasing after Ethari, uncertain. “Ethari, please be with me. What have I done, that you slip away when I need you most?”

 _You know what you’ve done, Runaan_. Ethari’s voice echoed from everywhere but the elf in his arms.

“Please tell me, so I can make it right. Let me fix this.”

_There is no fixing this._

The cold sunk in deeper. “Then… then, if this is the end, please, stay with me. This is our wedding dance. Stay in my arms, and I’ll hold you forever.”

_You cannot hold what you’ve already given up, Runaan._

Runaan gasped as the ice reached his heart. “I’ll never let you go, Ethari.”

_You’ve already let me go, Runaan. You let go of me back in the Silvergrove. You chose for both of us. And now you must live—and live—and live—with the consequences of what you’ve done._

_Runaan. You’ve already let me go_.

Runaan flinched hard, and his hands lifted from Ethari. In less than a breath, Ethari was gone. The hard golden glare of the magic prison coin returned, pushing into Runaan’s mind, forcing away even his most distressing, most precious, most painful illusions.

The music faded, slowed, forgot its melody. Runaan stood alone in the diffuse golden light of his prison. Alone, forgotten, unlamented—so alone that not even his fondest memories could stand to comfort him. _No one will stay with me. I’ve lost everything. Even Ethari’s love._ Slowly, he dropped his hands to his sides, and his eyes begin to burn.

His eyes slid shut, and he sank to his knees, feeling hot tears begin to spill over his cheeks. He crumpled forward onto one hand, and his loose hair fell around his face, sheltering his tears as they fell. His chest shook with heavy sobs, and he pressed his other hand over his mouth, as if he could hide his grief from himself by stifling his cries.

 _“She_ needs _this, Ethari.”_

 _“No._ You _need this. You want to give her something so badly that you’re filling her hands with death, Runaan. That is not a gift you give someone you love. Especially not a child.”_

 _“She_ asked _me for it, Ethari. This is who I am. This is what I can give.”_

 _“Runaan. My heart. You don’t give. You_ take _.”_

Runaan cried aloud in an agony of grief, shaking, hot, and so very, very lost. Ethari had vanished before their dance was done, and Runaan didn’t know the steps anymore. Didn’t want to dance them anyway, without his lifelong partner.

_I don’t know this dance, my heart. I didn’t understand what our dance truly was, until my feet stumbled. If I can rise again… if I can find my footing… will you hold me close one last time? Will you lead me?_

_I want to try again. With you._

Runaan closed his eyes. Stood poised, still. Extended his hand. Breathed out, trembling, and waited. Ethari would reach back. Ethari always reached back to him for this dance. Their wedding dance.

A warm hand pressed its palm to his, and the dance began.


End file.
